A Journey of Thoughts
by aboh
Summary: He wished to be alone but the priest did not intend to leave his reincarnation out of his sight. Yaoi. SetoSeth. Not intended for the holidays.


Part: 1/1  
Pairing: Seto/Seth.  
Warning: Seto talks too much in the fic but... someone needs to talk. Don't read if you're not open-minded or do not have the time to contemplate.

A/N: I have a Seto/Seth picture and snow. It doesn't go with the fic but it's good for the mood. Remove the space from the link and you're in.

www.geocities. com/seinengappi/illust/yuart033.html

Now, here's the fic.

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Following orders was something I was never good at. When he said, "Don't follow me!" I ignored his warning. When he repeated the same sentence, I had already walked after him.

/A cursed spirit./

I almost could hear his thought and see the way his lips pressed together in repressed indignation, and decide that in some way, he was speaking the truth.

The sky greeted me with its ashen color, snowflakes falling like rain, chillingly cold although not as wet. The earthen surface leading uphill into the endless whiteness was almost invisible.

"Where are you going?" I asked and he replied, "No where."

Seto didn't glance back, nor did he wait for me, seeming too immense in walking straight, not even looking where his feet landed. I soon noticed that we were not following any apparent direction. Passing a snow-covered expansion scattered with tree stumps and rocks, we turned twice to reach a slope and climbed up a narrow path. A perpendicular ledge was on our left where we circled to enter a dense growth of pines and oaks, eventually plunge into and wade through boulders and bushes, low but sharp enough to tear off flimsy fabrics.

The hard packed ice was slippery. My snow boots failed to grab on and I fell. Palms scraping against icy snow, I rubbed them briefly on my long coat to clean up and pushed up. It hurt at first but the pain was fleeting like a kiss of the morning light, only the constant presence of the cold stayed.

My heels dug into the soft snow to apply weight and I found it was easier to walk that way.

His firm boots made the snow creak, leaving prints on the ground. I stepped into them and concentrated on following the precisely set footprints without losing the sight of his back.

Even with his skin pale from the cold, he looked warm and comfortable, cocooning in layers of shirts and coats with thick gloves covering his fingers. I briefly wished to have something else to wear rather than my ancient garments that were already drenched and covered with patches of ice.

"Seto, what is Christmas?" I asked him, feeling the need to say something and know that I was not alone and dreadfully cold at that.

"It is the solitary of oneself -- the time when there is but silence about and your mind is free to think."

His definition of Christmas was not a glorious festival, celebration or worship of Gods as I initially had believed. Too withdrawing to himself, he was. Yet, it seemed he needed the harmony with nature to meditate, not very dissimilar to us of the priesthood.

"What is it that you're thinking about?"

"Hm, something. Many things. For example, why are you here? Why are you following me?" He looked back. "And why do I have to suffer the incessancy of your voice?"

The words rendered me speechless. His heels turned to continue the walk as the suffocating silence started to reign on us. We passed cliffs and rocks and trees, steadily going up. I felt too many times that after a while, it was much easier to lie on the snowy ground than to stand up.

"You are still angry at me about Zachary (1), are you not?" I asked, trying to stop the unwanted stillness.

That stopped Seto in his track but he continued walking swiftly, almost furiously with all the grace and agility he always possessed. I briefly wished that he could turn his head so that I could catch his expressions.

"I do not want to discuss about this."

Another denial from him.

Zachary was one of Seto's business associates in America. I remembered the bearded, tall and handsome man with a confident air weaving around him. Zachary and Seto's partnership had been perfect because it helped to combine business ventures to promote trade and investment. That was... until I came into the picture. I hadn't intended to introduce myself to Zachary but the man had noticed my ghostly presence and questioned Seto. There had been arguments which soon destroyed the relationship and Seto had been angry with me ever since despite the lack of accusation.

"I really regret it, Seto."

Never meant it. Never wanted it. Never intended it.

Yet, there seemed no redemption. Seto was not someone who knew how to forgive and forget, not even when he himself was at fault. He had rejected my wish to meet and explain everything to Zachary as if he no longer held his trust in me.

His apparent attempts to ignore and swallow his anger did not help to relent the damage done to both of us.

I questioned myself whether meeting him was a mistake on my part. Things had been so simple when I was in Kemet where Re was always bright, bathing my face and body in a honey color, the sand golden and hot, and the sky blue and clear.

Here the weather was cold, the scenery bleached off all colors, and Re far and distant. Every breath here seemed to be sucked in by the labor of lungs against the winds that gusted and graced frostbite skin.

"If you can give me a chance, I..."

"Can't you just shut up for a while?" he suddenly lashed out with such fiery that I did not desire to confront just yet.

"I was the one who broke off," he added eventually and continued, voice distant as if he was recalling the long forgotten time. "He was a kind and gentle man who had offered financial help to Kaiba Corps when I needed it most. We joined naturally... justifiably and I did not dwell on the issue."

He stopped momentarily, face stern and jaw set. "No, it was not your fault. After he knew of your existence, at first, he wanted to invite an exorcist but soon agreed to accept you as a part of me. Still, I could not go back to him because... let's say I realized the inadequacy and erroneousness of the relationship. I didn't... I never... /love/ him."

/Jaded souls whose feelings had lost over time./

If he was truthful about his not regretting of the relationship, his anger shouldn't exist, simpering at me like cold fire.

I felt it. Sensed it. Almost smelled it.

Much had been changed. His eyes refused to look directly at me and he avoided talking to me for days.

Yet, how was he so sure that he did or did not love someone? I wouldn't understand even if I tried.

Was love the worship, dedication and obedience we had sworn to our Gods and Per A'a? Or was it the same sadness, guilt and sin rising inside me as I pushed the dagger deeper into my father's heart, as my hands were stained with blackened blood that ran in my own veins? Was it the pain, despair and anguish I felt as I dropped down on my knees hugging the corpse of an innocent whom I was too helpless to save? I was lonely with nothing to keep and think except him and the memories of the loved ones.

He looked started and resumed his steps to tread a path that I could not see at first. Crystals were crunched under our boots, my footprints overlapping his, tramping on granular snow. The slope was not steep but I slipped, tumbling in a flurry of powdered snow. I was aware of damp and cold as bare skin contacted icy ground and stones, leaving scrapes and bruises that wouldn't be visible or noticeable until they started to hurt.

He was waiting, perking on the slope, and looking down. It was as if he was waiting for me to stand up or stay until I was submerged under the thick snow blanket. In the stark whiteness, his eyes seemed the only prominent color and I could not resist contemplation of the lights in those Prussian blue pools that were so much like mine but the meanings inside were not.

Pressed one palm down, I used it as a support to push myself up but failed. Boots dug into the snow, fingers clawed, I moved up, not expecting to see an offered hand.

Mine fit snuggly into his, which was not surprising.

Warmth.

It spread from his gloved hand that smelled of apple wood. I took liberty in the heat from that warm body, snuggling against the broad chest, sensing the shifting of shoulders as arms wrapped around me. The sense of contentment followed, brief and precious.

Seto had a bony body. He sometimes reminded me of the skeletons that the sandstorms pulled up from the depths of desert sand. Yet, there was strength in that body -- one that belonged to a boy who grew up too fast for his age, so unlike me, forever trapped in a shape that was eternally young as my mind grew sad and weary.

"Don't do that," said he and pulled away with an indescribable swirl of emotions brewing like a storm in his eyes.

We continued walking in the blind snow trail to where it was most difficult to walk, where the dead pines covered with icicles and frost, nearly blending into the surrounding.

Death was to be felt and savored. It lurked under the shiny ice surface that broke under our boots, in the hiss of intense winds, and at the tempting cliff edge waiting to claim its victims.

He was again fast leaving me behind and I ran after him, slipping and falling in the process. There were signs of blue-black bruises imprinted on my knees; they must be from the previous fall. As I looked up, Seto had already lost in the falling snow and I felt dread and isolation tighten around my heart -- things that I could not believe I was capable to feel.

I stood up on my feet and followed the fading traces of him. He was standing at the end of a slope in that same calm and indifferent posture, smoking and blowing up a ring of smoke that instantly dissipated into the air.

"Have a smoke. It will make you warmer," he said. Some delicate white flakes fell on his glove and melted to damp as he intended his hand towards me.

I moistened my lips, considering the option of taking his offer and the powered snow that could subdue my thirst. The smoke went in my lungs and burnt until I coughed and folded over as tears welled up, the foreign cigarette dropped, lost and forgotten. I gave an accusing look but he didn't react, keeping a steady gaze on me through a thin veil of falling snow.

We did not converse anymore for he seemed in a hurry to lose himself into the endless path. When my lips and throat were parched and my breaths came in short gasps, we stopped somewhere uphill where the views were staggering. Pure white landscape shifted in undulating waves, the pines and hills covered with pristine crystals that glittered like precious stones, the sound movement of the air, earth and trees in sync with the gentle dripping of a nearby creek. Re was withdrawing under the mountains whose tops seemed to burn and drench in wild fire, unbridled and unrestrained. A spacious piece of sky was burnished in the same reddish color. Yet, the ice did not melt and the air turned even colder.

"It's a beautiful place," I whispered.

"Do you know why I bring you here?" he looked at me and asked the same calm and indifferent voice but I sensed a disturbance in his tone. There was much unsaid but I understood.

I'd always believed that one day, he would determine that he no longer desired my presence. Today seemed that day but I did not want to leave, not at this time, not when his warm hand was free from the glove and pressed against my cheek.

"To leave me. To say you do not want me anymore," I said simply, not really feeling anything, briefly missing the contact with his bare skin.

He didn't acknowledge my reply but a long stare gave away our mutual understanding. I would be pleased to stay here on the snow where it felt better to close my eyes and sleep with the katabatic wind embracing me.

Pulling back, he walked off without looking back.

I sat there, looking at the darkening sky, wondering when I would collapse and turn into smoke and then awake to the cobweb confinement of the Millennium Rod.

I was far from feeling upset; instead, there were acceptance and emptiness. The warmth was leaving me, my limbs drowsy and worn out. There were no longer sensation on my toes; even my thighs were cold gradually -- the very sight of an eternal rest. I was quivering from the cold but I was neither damp nor wet for sweat had all but turned to ice. I stayed still, listening to my heartbeats that had slowed down to blend into the rhythm of nature. The winds moaned in my ears in tune with the swaying silhouettes of snow-laden branches.

When the stars started showing on the frosty sky, I saw him again, standing as quiet as a shadow in the snow. He sat down next me, disregarding of the ice and hard cold ground.

/Why do you return/ I asked but there was no voice.

"I don't know," answered he ruefully, lips trembling as if he found it hard to talk more.

I waited, listening to the whispers as small and soft as the very air about me.

"I tried to leave but I realized that I could not. Before you came, I never believed in the existence of spirits, reincarnations and magic. You were but a curse that I couldn't accept. I kept wondering about the significance of your intrusion into my life. I was too... unstable, insecure. I hated you because I always hated myself but then, the fact remained -- I also cared about you. When I asked myself, 'Can I make everything return to where it used to be? Can I run away and leave you behind forever or destroy you completely like some figments of the past?' I could not find the answer."

/Won't spirits all be gone in the end? Won't their hosts eventually will them away to the land of the Gods or to the darkest corner of the world where demons lie and wait with gaping jaws/

He shook his head and enveloped me in those same arms and warmth. I felt the ice melt and drip in rivulets against my skin as it came in contact with his breath.

"Don't say something you don't understand. Do you know how it hurt too much to see you fall? When you looked lost, betrayed and despaired, I felt pain but I was forcing myself not to care. You don't understand/never/ understand because you don't know sadness. You don't know pain and you don't know love."

And when he clasped my hand so tightly and suddenly, I thought about his warm body against my freezing one and about how different we were. I was him and he was me. Yet, I did not understand him. Would Gods be so kind to tell me whether a person was supposed to understand his reincarnation?

"I won't let you leave me. Not just yet," said he and supported me up; the warmth of his hand did not leave me this time. The lights caressed my eyes and I heard the grumbling sound of a helicopter circling ahead.

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Zachary is my creation. Don't ask. I happen to love the name dearly.

A/N: I would let you interpret this story the way you like. You wouldn't want to hear from me anyway.


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